The Light of Stars
Several years BC (before children), when we travelled round the world with hand luggage, one of our last stops was Portland, Maine. The thought of travelling anywhere without half the stock of Mothercare seems incredible these days. I remember swirling snow storms as we ran to the farmer's market, succulent lobster, log fires and steamed apple cider. The Danforth was everything you could want in a last stop before real life begins again - more like someone's home than a hotel. Hot chocolate and warm brownies appeared as if by magic at teatime, and a welcoming tray of brandy and glasses stood by the billiards table. Like all good homes, there were plenty of books to flick through around the place. As the sky darkened and snow cloaked the world outside, I settled by the fire and picked up the nearest book. It was old, cloth bound, well loved. The title was something like 'Memoirs of a Gadabout,' and the opening line was along the lines of: 'A life that swings between the extremes of poverty and affluence will never be dull ...' There's a heartening thought for all of us caught up in the present credit crunch - everything passes and it certainly makes you appreciate the good times.
How much do we really need? I'm in the middle of a big clearout - I think perhaps it's a necessary catharsis, a reaction to being stuck waiting for news on the book, news on where we are off to next. There have been trips to the tip, baby stuff given away on Freecycle and bags dropped off at Oxfam. I don't know about you but sometimes I just feel bogged down by 'stuff' - it's a constant battle to stem the chaos. How can two small people make so much mess? When you see how little many people in the world have, travelling humbles you I think. It makes you realise just how small and insignificant you are, and how little you need. I love travelling light, like Lisa St Aubin de Teran love the open road and journeying. Frustratingly, the airline have moved the goal posts - new bases weren't posted yesterday. Instead, anyone on the move will be getting a letter today or tomorrow. All change on the book front too. Having hoped for publication this year it looks like I'm going to be waiting until the Autumn for any news. Sometimes perhaps it's just best to assume everything is unfolding as it should and just roll with it. Lawrence said once if you travel long enough everywhere feels like home. We'll get there. Just got to keep strong and be patient. In the Danforth there was a lovely engraving of Longfellow (I think he was from Portland). I was thinking of the 'Light of Stars' the other day:
And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.
O fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know erelong,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
